


25. Christmas song

by greywolfheir



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Baby It's Cold Outside, Christmas songs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 02:10:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greywolfheir/pseuds/greywolfheir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley tries to convince Aziraphale to stay inside during a blizzard</p>
            </blockquote>





	25. Christmas song

**Author's Note:**

> You'll notice the song isn't actually mentioned, but the entire fic is riddled with lines from/inspired by the song Baby It's Cold Outside

Aziraphale spared a glance at the window, noticing the dark behind the flurries of snow. He’d been at Crowley’s too long. It was odd—to be in Crowley’s apartment, that is—as they usually stuck around the bookshop. But tonight after a lovely dinner at the Ritz, Crowley suggested his flat. There was an odd note to his voice in that suggestion that Aziraphale decided to ignore. Crowley was always acting suspicious at times, even if he had nothing to be suspicious about. Aziraphale supposed it was a demon thing.

“I really shouldn’t stay, my dear,” Aziraphale sighed. “I should go back to the shop.”

Crowley straightened. “But angel, it’s…it’s _cold_ out there.”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes at the subtle desperation in Crowley’s voice, but the corner of his mouth had the beginnings of a smile. “Not all of us were put on this earth in cold-blooded bodies, old serpent.”

Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s hand after he put his glass down, startling the angel enough to elicit a barely perceptible squeak. “Your hands are like ice!”

“My dear, I really—“

Crowley waved his hands and lit the fireplace. “It’s so warm in here, Aziraphale. What’s your hurry anyway?”

Aziraphale made a disgruntled sound, but he sat back. “Well, maybe just a _half_ a drink more couldn’t hurt.”

Crowley smiled (making Aziraphale’s corporation immediately become very, _very_ warm for an odd reason). He let go of Aziraphale’s hand to pour out the glass. He made sure to fill it all the way—a gesture Aziraphale noticed with chagrin. And was that… _music_? Crowley got up to go to the kitchen before Aziraphale could question him.

Aziraphale shrugged and took a sip of his drink. It was different from what they had been drinking earlier. Good, but different. “Say, what _is_ , in this drink?” Aziraphale asked, to no reply from Crowley. Regardless, he really, should get going shouldn’t he? He didn’t know why he was so desperate to leave but something was off tonight and he just felt like he should leave before something happened that he regretted. He grabbed his hat—Crowley had bought it for him, oh _years_ ago; he’d almost completely forgotten what it had been for—and put it on.

When Crowley walked back in, Aziraphale could see clearly out of the corner of his eyes that the poor demon was upset. But he really _did_ need to leave.

“Angel, you know the cold won’t be good for your wings,” Crowley said in a pathetic excuse.

“Then would you be a dear and let me borrow your coat? I forgot mine.” Aziraphale said, standing. He was still feeling the buzz of the drink Crowley had given him, but it wasn’t enough to be debilitating so he didn’t do anything about it.

“The snow will be up to your knees! I don’t see why you can’t just stay!” Crowley was using wide gestures with his hands but he didn’t move an inch toward his closet.

“The answer is no, serpent,” Aziraphale said forcefully. Then softer, “It really was a nice evening, dear but I mean really. What will the neighbors think?”

“And what will Up There think if you have to explain that you lost your latest corporation by catching pneumonia when you very well could have stayed inside?”

It was a ridiculous argument but Aziraphale found himself relenting as he took another sip of the drink Crowley had given him. “Say what exactly is in this drink, dear?”

“Don’t change the subject, angel,” Crowley said, and something in his tone made Aziraphale look at Crowley for the first time since he came out of the kitchen.

He looked different—so very different. It wasn’t as if his features had changed, but more that the way Aziraphale was perceiving them changed. Suddenly, his hair was _just so_ that it looked practically perfect. His cheekbones were more pronounced—the suit he was wearing somehow made them that much more noticeable—and his _eyes_. Aziraphale didn’t know when Crowley had taken off his sunglasses but he was glad he did. The demon’s yellow eyes were practically sparkling. They were…they were like starlight. Aziraphale didn’t notice that he had forgotten to breathe.

Crowley held out his hand. “Stay, angel. Let me take your hat.”

After a moment of hesitation, Aziraphale relented. He slipped the hat off his head and gave it to Crowley, who set it gently down on the table before saying, “Have I ever told you that the hair on this corporation suits you? Because it really does.”

The way Crowley seemed more relaxed and the way his eyes had brightened Aziraphale’s change of mind would have caused the angel’s breath to catch in his throat if Aziraphale had been breathing at the time. Crowley then stepped closer, until Aziraphale could feel the heat Crowley’s body was giving off.

“I really should say no,” Aziraphale said suddenly, watching Crowley droop again. “There will be talk.”

“Do you think I care, angel?” Crowley said. He lifted his hand, hesitating before fingering Aziraphale’s collar. “Besidesss, who says we shouldn’t give them something to talk about?”

“You’re hissing, dear,” Aziraphale pointed out, if only to ignore the implications that had surely sent a blush through his cheeks. And the way Crowley’s fingers had moved to Aziraphale’s jaw-line wasn’t helping either.

“Has anyone ever told you that your lips look delicious, angel?” Crowley whispered, gently lifting Aziraphale’s chin to better capture the aforementioned lips. Aziraphale let out another surprised squeak but didn’t pull away from the kiss. In fact, he trailed his hands up Crowley’s chest until he could grip the demon’s shoulder before returning it. Aziraphale felt Crowley’s smile against his lips.

They both pulled away and Aziraphale couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh. “I suppose it _is_ rather cold outside after all.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic in August, but obviously I didn't want to post it then. When I decided to do this 25 days of ficmas, I was so happy it fit in a prompt--and the last one at that! 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys have enjoyed reading my fics as much as I've enjoyed writing them. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!


End file.
